Page 108 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

I slide the shirt off my shoulders and bite back a smile when I hear Dima inhale sharply at the sight of my bare breasts.

I kick the blankets off and arch my hips high in the air as I hook my fingers into the waistband of my shorts and begin sliding them down.

Dima swallows a groan when he sees I don’t have any underwear on, either.

When I throw my clothes in the pile with his, I turn to him. “Much better with no pajamas on, but now I think there might be better things to do in bed than sleep. What do you think?”

He nods. “I’ve got a few ideas…”

I roll over and crawl towards him. I throw one leg over his waist, then the other, until I’m straddling him with my heat lined up over his stiffening cock.

My nipple is already hard, but when he tweaks it between his fingers, it gets painfully sharp. I try to bite back a gasp and mostly fail.

His other hand slides between us and cups me. “Do you like being on top, Arya?” he asks. “You’re already wet.”

My legs are shaking from just the little bit of friction from his thumb, an orgasm anxious to burst out of me. But I’m not ready to be done yet.

I take slow, deep breaths as Dima slides his hand around to work a finger into me and then another.

I plant my hands on his chest and clench my entire body, trying to fight off what I know is coming. Trying to draw out the pleasure.

“I don’t want your hand,” I groan.

“What do you want?” Dima taunts. “Tell me what you want. Maybe I’ll even give it to you.”

I drag my thumb over his bottom lip and bite my own. “Your mouth.”

Almost before I can speak the words, Dima has me on my back, my knees over his shoulders, and his face between my legs.

His beard tickles the insides of my thighs, but my giggles die in my throat when he presses the whole of his tongue against me in one long lick.

I slide my fingers into his black velvet curls and hold his head where I want it, thrusting against his sucking lips and the delicious flicks of his tongue.

Then he slides his fingers into me again, just like he did earlier before we danced.

And just like I did earlier, I cry out.

“Oh, fucking God, Dima, you’re going to make me…”

I burst, slowly and silently in a series of mini-orgasms like a lightning storm. Dima pins me to the bed and licks me until each one blurs into the next and my throat gets raspy from stifling screams.

When he finally lifts his head, his lips are shiny with my juices and his hair is mussed from my hands.

I like knowing that I did that to him. Some primal part of me feels like I’ve marked my territory, and I’m anxious to mark it some more.

He crawls over me, but before he can pin me to the bed, I flip over onto my stomach and lift my hips.

“Yes, just like that,” he sighs. “Put that pussy in the air for me.”

His hands clamp down on my hips as he runs his hard length between my cheeks.

“Take me,” I beg, face against the sheets. “Fuck me like I’m yours.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

My pussy is wet and desperate. He slides in like he was always meant to be there.

Dima slides his hands up the curve of my waist and cups my breasts in his hands, using them like handles to pull me onto him.

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